


BLACK, TWO SUGARS

by Mansurovacool



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Out of Character, Routine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-09-17 00:12:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16964121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mansurovacool/pseuds/Mansurovacool
Summary: John is a barista, Sherlock is a coffee boy, but life is not so easy.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ifodifo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Ifodifo).
  * A translation of [Черный, два сахара](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/439794) by Ifodifo. 



> From the first lines I was taken with this nice and tender, pure and gentle story though the plot isn't new. And I'd like to share it with you to make these cold winter evenings a little bit warmer. As it is my frist translation of a medium sized text, I'll post it portionally but the original issue has only one chapter. So, I ask author to forgive me kindly. The permission for translation was asked and given and I suppose all the mistakes are mine, but not the author's ones.And your cudos are very important for me as a translator and the author of this nice story. Thanks in advance.

Fais-moi un bon café,  
J'ai une histoire à te raconter.  
Joe Dassin

 

"Oh, this dude. Again, " says Victor through his teeth, looking somewhere over John’s shoulder.

John sighs and makes Americano for a pair of students.

"He likes me," says Victor a little bit later, while John is taking an order for doppio from one elderly man in a raincoat.

John just only shrugs his shoulders as he thinks that Victor has a great view of himself.

"OK, I’m going to take his phone number, " John has a pause in his work and follows his eyes after Victor. He watches Victor coming to the tall dark-haired guy, who is sitting at the table near the window . But the guy doesn’t see Victor as he is enthusiastically typing in his smartphone. Molly sighs behind John.

"It’s a dead end. Nonsense," she is speaking in a weak voice, close to whisper, "because this is Sherlock."  
Э

"Do you know him? – asks John with a great interest. He is watching closely for Victor and the guy with the smartphone.

"He is a chemist, I have seen him some times at the uni," Molly’s voice is pacing and trembling. It’s very suspicious." He doesn’t have any relationships. He is too..." She takes a pause as if she can’t find the necessary words.

"He is from another world, " concludes John. He notes the expensive clothes and the proud posture. "He is not for us, isn’t he?" He turns to Molly to be sure that it was exactly that she tried to say.

Molly’s cheeks are glowing but she just nods with agreement. The talk between Victor and Sherlock(it is so easy for John to change the neutral “guy” into his proper name) is turning into drama. Victor lost his dominating position looming over him and took a step back. His face is ravaging with red spots, he is chewing his lips and his hands are trembling. Sherlock is telling something to him just scanning his strained figure. At last Victor drops something in the answer, turns around and runs away. He even doesn’t give any glance at shocked and surprised Molly and John, hides in a storeroom and John has another client. Before taking an order, John gives Sherlock one more quick glace and shudders after catching his look. It is a strange look. Sherlock is staring at him in a strange way, as if he scanning or studying him. And it can’t be understood easily. John must feel uncomfortable under this piercing eyes but he just smiles in reply – he doesn’t like Victor at all. When John gives the latte to the client and looks up to see Sherlock he can see only the cup with unfinished coffee standing on the edge of the free table.  
"He’s really very strange," Molly sighs one more time and come up to the table with a tray and a broomstick. She’s a waitress and this is her work. John shrugs his shoulders one more time. He wonders how was it possible for their universes to run across or bumped into each other in such an ordinary students’ café.. He is quite sure that Sherlock will never come here again. He doesn’t belong to this place as diamonds are funny as a cleaning lady decoration. Sherlock is some kind of a foreign body and no mixing or dissolution is supposed.  
John is really surprised to see Sherlock next morning sitting the same place at the same table.

"Black with two sugars, "says Molly in answer to his shocked look .

It is the very first time for John to made coffee with a great wish to impress. He takes the best cup (though they are really the same to tell the truth) and pours coffee trying to make foam to cover all the surface. It is the least that can be done for a hero who was able to show Victor Trevor his place. Victor is a cheeky asshole and John thinks he is connected with some drug dealers but unfortunately he has no evidence. Victor kept silence till the evening. No sneers at John or Molly, no rudeness for the clients and even his part of work after the café closing was done without any telling-off. Certainly, they can’t wait Victor to be such kind of an angel forever, but even peaceful yesterday without and quarrels and gibes is a good reason for giving Sherlock all bonuses he wants. Molly brings the coffee to the table and stays for a moment, turning red and biting her lips. John can’t stop gazing at them. He is sure that Molly will not be able to say a word to Sherlock. Molly takes a step back when Sherlock surprisingly turns his curly head to her and make away. Sherlock follows her with his eyes and looks at John. The tips of John’s ears are flushing and he is very glad to have another order but he feels that Sherlock’s examining him carefully. From time to time, during little breaks among the endless cups of Irish and ice coffee, John looks at Sherlock in an under head way . He is always in his smartphone, paying no attention for all these companies of students changing and replacing each other. His coffee is cold but he doesn’t order another one. John thinks that his name “Sherlock” perfectly suits to his elongated face, soft curly close to raven hair, his unreal slanting eyes and expressive lips. John admires him as if Sherlock is a masterpiece in a museum or photo at an exhibition – a handsome aristocratic face that can be imagine in a black-and white colour gamma. John cannot make out the colour of Sherlock’s eyes as it is too far. But he supposes they must be grey, cold and gloomy as that everlasting fog in London.. Due to the queue of orders John doesn’t catch the moment of Sherlock’s disappearing. After his leaving a company of goth-girls occupies his table and Molly quickly takes his unfinished cup. It seems to John that Molly fell in love. But to tell the truth he is also in love with this icy inaccessibility. John is sure that everything will soon be over but the next day he looks carefully at everybody visiting his café. Sherlock comes about seven. Wind follows him and flaps his coat and tousles his unruly locks. John feels warmth in his chest and his lips are foolishly smiling. They meet their eyes for a moment but Sherlock doesn’t give the smile back. He just watches John for some moments, scanning him again, and turns back going to his table. John must feel cheat about his smile but he doesn’t. He didn’t ever expect to have a smile in answer. You can’t really wait any reaction from the Venus of Milo, can you?

"Black, two sugars," John can barely hear Molly’s words but he nods and takes jezve. He measures some coffee with a spoon, pours water, he moves automatically. John tries to convince himself that it is just one more coffee for a just one more client but suddenly he drops two leaves of mint before giving Molly the cup. “It doesn’t really mean anything, it has not any influence for the taste of the coffee, it is just an expression of his favour,” all these thoughts must assures himself but his heart beating takes a pause when Molly puts the order on the table and leaves Sherlock quickly. John sees Sherlock turns round surprisingly and his eyes are looking for John and then he takes his cup and his lips taste the drink. For a moment they stare each other and then a client comes to John and after his leaving with another cup of conpanno John watches Sherlock is busy with his smartphone. But at least he didn’t protest or wasn’t offended and didn’t run away far from John’s attention. John feels good and he sings the Beatles’ song about the walrus till they call it the end..When Sherlock leaves, the wind rushes into the café one more time to play with the laps of his coat and it adds some infernality to all his image. John looks at Sherlock’s back and smiles. He smiles foolishly and lovingly. But certainly, it doesn’t mean anything.

It doesn’t mean anything though John can’t stop dreaming about Holmes during his lectures, he can’t stop envisaging his face and looking forward for meeting him. John makes guesses about Sherlock’s coming during the lecture on inorganic chemistry , and draws a men in a long coat with a shock of black hair instead of pediculas humanius during histology. John doesn’t like his drawing and , with a great unpleasure, he returns to the microscope. Mike Stemford has a look into John’s notebook and nods his head surprisingly. John hardly cuts it fine to finish his task till the end of the lecture and he runs to his work without saying goodbye. He can’t be late as he need this money badly. He lives from hand to mouth, his scholarship isn’t worth speaking about and sometimes he has to give some money to Harry as she is in low water . Her jobhunting doesn’t give any results. He doesn’t have enough for himself but it goes without saying that his sister has priority in this question.. John often dreams to have one more job but it means that he will not be able to study and he can’t allow himself to lose the uni. He is just a boy from an unhappy and disadvantaged family and he can’t lose the only chance to change his future and achieve something. At work John tries to stop his obsessional thoughts about Sherlock. He automatically pours the coffee, and gives Molly his smiles, and successfully ignores Victor’s grumbling.

"Black, two sugars, " Molly says her stock words and gazes at Sherlock.  
She is waiting for coffee and John is making it with awe. Before giving it to Molly he add some cinnamon as it is one of the John’s favourite combination which was found when he experimented with different additions. Molly takes the cup silently and puts it on the tabke near the window. Sherlock stops for a moment before having a swallow and John can’t stand looking at him. When their looks meet John’s cheeks are flushing. Oh, his cheeks betray him. This is his reactive possibility to colour different parts of his body in the colours of his mental turmoil. This is exactly that awful possibility to be blamed for his redden face under Sherlock’s examining look. John doesn’t look away in order not to show his weakness but at this moment he understands the guinea pigs. He is a little and helpless guinea pig under Sherlock’s eyes, as he is examining him carefully. Certainly, this foolish flirting will not have any good end.  


"Coretto, " another client wants a cup of coffee and John unwillingly takes his eyes off. He tries to persuade himself that there is no flirt but it is just a complement from the chef. The history continues under the dirty look of Victor and dreamful look of Molly. Sherlock and John haven’t moved more than one cup of coffee but it seems to John that he’s rushing down the steep slope and he hast lost the moment to stop this race. John has no ideas about Sherlock’s thoughts.  
Making the tenth cup of coffee John suddenly realizes that it is rather dangerous to add any additions to the coffee without any asking because Sherlock can have an allergy. That’s why the next cup with coffee if followed be a little saucer with ginger and a glass of pure water. Molly is surprised . She raises her eyebrows up but doesn’t give any comment. She stands a little bit longer near Sherlock’s table and John is catching their eyes and is very nervous. They are speaking about him. When Molly returns John tries not to stare at her.

"He has told he doesn’t have any allergy," she says in a weak voice.

John is shocked and amazed by Sherlock’s perspicuity cause the usual reaction he could count on after the changing of the habits was a question or request to give some explanations. John nod to Molly and takes Sherlock’s words into consideration. But Molly doesn’t leave him and it would be silly to hope for this.

"What is between you? " asks she trying to catch John’s eyes.

" Between us? " John astonishment is sincere and bitter at the same time. – Molly, there can’t be any “us”. It’s a wrong word. There is an interest and admiration from my side and a cold condescension of the British queen to her vassals from his side. Nothing more.

"I don’t understand your words about the British queen," Molly frowns.

" Well, the Queen of England allows us to admire with her, she can even stops and gives a pat on the cheek to a schoolboy who is deeply in love with her but she is always far and inaccessible."

Molly nods her head and returns to watching Sherlock. At last she says: "He doesn’t look at you as the queen of Britain."  
"He hardly looks at me at all," argues John. The glance at the entrance and a glance when Sherlock tastes coffee can’t be taken as an action in Continuous tense.  
John sighs and returns to the manual on human’s anatomy which he tries to read when there is no clients in the café. But his not able to concentrate as his thoughts are gathered around Sherlock.

Two days later Victor is filled with indignant:"He stares at you!"

His vile manners has returned after that memorable case and he is rude with clients and mocks at his colleagues John gazes around surprisingly but the only thing he sees is the curly head bended over the smart phone.  
."You are delirious, " John purses his lips and takes order for two cups of latte/ macchiato," as he doesn’t even look at me."

Victor shows him an indecent gesture in answer under the bar stand and John becomes red. John is angry.

"He stares at you when you don’t notice it," adds Molly later." If only he looks at me that way…"

John watches a figure in black and finds that Molly makes a mistake. It is obvious there is no Sherlock’s interest there, especially the way they want to convince him. If there is any interest it is close to interest of the researcher. And John again thinks that he is a little guinea pig whose heart is ready to burst out of his chest when he sees his personally vivisectionist. Has John thought about love? Oh, are you kidding? Surely not. It is just admiration, adoring an art masterpiece . John tries to calm himself with these false explanations and images but somewhere deep in his heart, in the background, he knows that he is in love… Head over heels.

That’s why his heart changes its pulse and he is often melancholic. It’s high time to stop this comedy but John isn’t able to cut this….how it could be called… maybe , under -relationship.But there is a big chance that there is even nothing to cut and everything was created only with his great imagination.  
An evil and unpleasant incident happens on Wednesday. John head is going round due to an endless number of clients. The lines of cappuccino, latte and espresso are made in some kind of trance, without any thoughts or words. He is working on automatic pilot.

"Your macchiato, please, " says he to a fat man in the plaid shirt and a west, says the price and gives the change. And he gives his duty smile to the next client: "Ready for your order."  
/  
"Hey, chap, "the fatty is looking for something in his purse, " you’ve mistaken with my change, haven’t you? I gave you a twenty, and what? Where is my money? What a small change is it!"  
"Oh, you’re mistaken," answers John in a low voice as he tries not to get attention of other customers, "you gave me.."

"I’m well informed what banknote I gave you! Where’s my change?"

John turns to look at Molly. He is sad as he understands that this client is a sample of people, who will prove his right with froth at the mouth. They will never excuse even if it is proved that they are wrong.

"You gave me..." repeats John patiently but the fatty doesn’t listen to him and continues his show. The queue begins to trouble and some people are getting close being attracted by the hot atmosphere of scandal.

" Are you in habit to short-change honest citizens," the fatty man spouts insults to John, " maybe you’re don’t have enough for the dose? And you make hay here! You’re a petty thief! Look at him! Return my money, you, milksop!"

And it seems to John that everyone in the queue looks at him with blame and agrees that he is a real thief. And the worst point is that Sherlock is present and he hears all the insults John is given.  
\  
"If you wish I close the cash desk and count the day’s receipts," John voice sounds awful as he clearly imagine that it will not safe him from the scandal.

He sees Victor’s gloating grin and Molly’s pitying look. The clients begin to talk to each other discussing the situation and the fatty adds in quick temper:

"Do you think I believe that you put my money into the cash desk? Empty your pockets!"

 

And John realizes that he can be searched immediately and he doesn’t remember his cash. It really may be a twenty pound banknote somewhere in his pockets." I…" and he turns pale, and he feels sick. He is fed up with this cruel farce,  
But the fat man presses splashing his poor coffee around.  


" Empty your pockets! Call the police!"

"If I were you I wouldn’t insist on it, " the calm and a little bit muffled voice is heard over the crowd.

The fat man turns round and id preparing to argue and John wishes the earth could swallow him up. It is not the situation he dreamt to speak to Sherlock for the first time.

"Why is that? " the fatty is surprised. He turned to the voice and now he is looking at Sherlock who is two heads taller.

"The twenty you have yelled about was given this morning to a guy named Pete as a part of your debt for something that can easily be found in the breast pocket of your waist.- Sherlock’s aristocratic finger points with disgust to the edge of a cellophane pocket which leans out of the pocket.- I think the police will be interested in composition of this powder. And before naming somebody a thief it is worth to remember that it is you who systematically robs your chief. You change the genuine spare parts for the Chinese mass-produced items. It is your business, isn’t it?"

The fatty moves back, tring to close his pocket with his all five fingers. His cheeks are covered with cowardly sweat, his eyes are goggling at Sherlock with an animal fear, his lips are quivering. 

"Damned, how did you kno…" These are the only sounds escaped from his lips as a hoarse sigh and then he just moves with his lips without saying a word and an unbearable fear is swashing in his eyes.  


"It’s obvious," says Sherlock calmly , " it’s just enough to look at you a bit closer. But if you are really interested in the way I have known about it…"

"It’s not true," squeals the fatty reviving himself and he is coming back, back, back from the crowd, which is parting to let him out.

He tumbles out back to front from the café  
And Sherlock just shrugs his shoulders before raising his eyes to John.

"Amazing, " whispers John and watches him adorable. Sherlock keeps silence and doesn’t show any attitudes to the accident.

"Black, two sugars, " he says and he doesn’t look aside and John nods quickly.  
John is making coffee. His hands are trembling, he’s biting his lips and he thinks how can he ask the phone number but he knows quite well he will never dare to ask. In the end he just gives him a twofold paper napkin with a nice giraffe – the remainder of a kid’s party that took place in the café. John doesn’t add any ingredients as his mind isn’t clearand isn’t able to make any right decision. Sherlock takes his coffee and stands still for a moment before returning to the table as if he’s waiting for something. John bites his lips and then takes the liberty to say in the back:

"Oh, thank you! I’m John…" and his hand stuck in the air.  


"An arrogant asshole," Victor grins happily.

"Torre, " orders another client.  


"How does he do this? " John is shocked and Molly smiles in answer,

" Frankly speaking, I’ve heard something," says Molly, "that he needs the only look to tell everything about a person . And sometimes he helps the police. It doesn’t mean I was very interested to spy him." Molly’s face is hot and she stops speaking.  


"So, is he a chemist? " asks john thoughtfully and he hardly suppress the wish to make inquires.

"Yeah, " confirms Molly, "he has free schedule or distant education, I don’t know exactly. Sometimes he goes to the university but he doesn’t attends any lectures. He doesn’t need them," she makes a vague gesture to demonstrate the superlative level of Sherlock’s knowledge.

"It’s clear, " John understands nothing but he doesn’t want to be named stalker and stops his little research..  
Going home John can’t help thinking about Sherlock and his deed. John wants to think about it. Yes, he called the fatty’s bluff, came to unmask him for John, not for just justice or fairness, not for fun or sporting interest. And he lives with this idea for some time. But later his doubts are present again and, going to bed, John is sure that Sherlock didn’t stand up for him but just did that what he always does – expose liars and law-breaker. Mike Stamford is snoring silently and murmurs something in his sleep. And John tosses and turns. He reminds Sherlock’s eyes – he was mistaken thinking they are grey. He is sure they are blue. Transparent blue.  
The next day Sherlock doesn’t come to the café and John is despaired. Sherlock doesn’t appear for three days and it’s enough to John’s world to go hell. He doesn’t sleep well, can’t concentrate during the lectures, losses his temper with Molly and answers back to Victor. He is quite ready to fight with patient Mike or gets completely drunk as he understands that Sherlock doesn’t’ come to café because he has lost any interest to John, no matter what kind of interest it was. John is eager to play a role of guinea pig if only one curly head can be found somewhere near him. But the miracle happens only on the fourth day , when having lost any hope to see Sherlock John notices the familiar silhouette dressed in swinging black coat at the doors of the café.  
Sherlock comes into as if nothing had happened and meets eyes with John before occupying his favourite table near the window and talking out his smartphone. Relief covers John and he can sink in this feeling. He smiles broadly and begins to make coffee without waiting the order. When Molly comes, he adds a pinch of vanilla to the black coffee with sugar. Molly smiles as she understands and shares John’s sympathy to Sherlock. Everything returns to the usual and only Victor gives him piercing and unkind glances and spits out, "Bitch! Why’s he getting around….?"  
John wants to give him a smack but he holds himself in check as he doesn’t want to lose the job. Sherlock make the first swallow and it seems to John that Sherlock smiles looking at him. This moving of the corner of his lips can be called smile, can’t it? John decides to take it this way and he begins to make a classificatory of Sherlock’s smiles. Doing this he tries to do his best not to feel like a schoolgirl in love.  


A stranger visitor come to the café like a prima to the stage of Covent Garden , resting his umbrella-cane he stops at the door for a moment. Maybe, he’s waiting for applause. An expensive suit, ideal shining shoes (in spite of this wind and weather, notes John), his like look like he has just left the barber-shop – everything shows that he is a prosperous and successful man and he is completely the other-world alien for their little students’ café. The man looks around the cage and his eyes stops at John and a minute later he is openly examining him with a great interest.. Then he nods to himself as if he has taken a decision and moves to the bar . John gives him a look of inquiry having great doubts such man can decide to have a cup of coffee here but he says in a powerful studied voice:

"Black without sugar, John."  


John stands still for a moment and he is ready to ask a question but then he understands that is what he’s wearing a badge for and nods in confusion. He makes coffee with diligence, being careful not to miss anything or do something wrong., feeling the studying look at his back. John is nervous but the coffee is perfect and he, greatly relieved, puts the cup before the man. While the man is paying, John tries to look aside but he can’t stop following him with his eyes when he leaves. John’s face changes when the owner of umbrella sits at Sherlock’s table and they begin to talk quietly. John doesn’t hear their conversation and rare gestures don’t allow him to guess the theme. Clients divert John attention but from time to time he looks in trouble to Sherlock and his companion and they also look at him. Definitely he is spoken about. Or not? John is embarrassed, upset and suppose himself to have a paranoia. For some reason the conversation between the two seems to be very important. 

Victor adds some oil to the fuel:"Oh, our dude comes with his boyfriend. What did I say – he is a bitch! Wagged his behind and found this fucking fop."Victor is emitting with poison and anger."I say, Johnny, it is no-win situation for you, poor thing. You’re going to flunk out against him. It’s no chance for a guy like you."  


And John, who usually is calm and passionless, loses his temper:"Shut up, you, idiot!" and he turns red because he has revealed his feelings in front of this oaf.

"What do I see? Little Jonny is upset," Victor is drawling the words and it makes John sick, " but come here and daddy Victor will console you!" he tries to draw John up and hug him but John tears himself from his embrace and pushes him away.

"Jerk!" John spits it out being ready to have a fight but it is impossible due to another client coming to the bar. John slaps the false grin on and says:"Can I take your order?"  


While he is making Viennese coffee, he hears a voice behind him saying:"Thank you, John. I was glad to meet you."  
John hardly avoids jumping up due to the unexpectedness, turns round and meets examining eyes of the man with umbrella. And Sherlock watches them carefully sitting at his table. Without understanding anything in the mise-en-scène all of them are taking part in, John smiles politely:"Visit us again, please."  


"I doubt whether," the stranger grins, " I doubt whether," and he leaves the café - so elegant, fit and neat, supernatural.

But Sherlock stays and watches John with some demands John can’t understand. All he can do us to return to finish the making of Viennese coffee. There are too many difficulties and puzzles in his life that’s why he thinks that making some coffee is the best occupation under the present circumstances. But later his thoughts returns to the stranger and he can’t stop the storm of ideas and suggestions which are jumping widely in his head. What links and relationships can connect such resembling and simultaneously not resembling people. Falling asleep at dawn John prefers the variant “lovers”, refused ‘acquaintances” or “friends”. Certainly, there are such variants as “relatives” or “colleagues” but John finds them unbelievable doesn’t take them into consideration. In the morning he is sure he will not see Sherlock again, but he bursts into the café with wind and fog entangled in his curls. Can’t hold his happy and foolish , John makes him coffee and adds some caramel.


	2. Chapter 2

Last time Harry often quarrels with her girl-friend and spends all her free time in bars, being drunk to death. And she meddles in John’s student life as he must look after her in different clubs, sits near until she falls asleep and not let her choke in her own vomit. John is a good brother and he can’t tell her to go elsewhere. He tries to influence her but Harry never pays any attention to opinions of other people and she mangles her life and brother’s one. John neglects inorganic chemistry: a lot of missing lections and failed lab works. Somehow or other, he copes with other subjects (due to his good schooling) but the problems with inorganic chemistry means only the possibility of sending down. John doesn’t sleep for three nights in a row, falls asleep during Latin and is drowsy at his job. There is a note-book with tasks and nibbled pen in front of him among the napkins, coffeepot and cezves. John hardly makes him return to the data of the example but his brain is indifferent and disregard – all it needs is dreaming. John rubs his eyes and misses Sherlock’s appearance. Being in a fog of exhaustion he makes coffee and lays some lemon slices on the saucer. Molly takes the order and John feels he is falling asleep.  
“It’s for you,” says Molly, returning John back from his trance, “ he’s asked to tell you to sleep well at last  
“He?” John’s cheeks are flushing. He hesitates but stretches his hand to the cup of drink he made a moment ago, returned by Molly. His eyes find Sherlock’s eyes and John winks being shocked with Sherlock’s frowned brows and angry look. John knocks the hot coffee back and tastes nothing but takes a slice of lemon and eats it with peel. Molly sighs with sympathy and maybe it is the first time in John’s life he sees Victor trying to be friendly:

“You don’t have enough time for everything, do you?” Victor asks in a kind voice. “ What do you do at nights?”

John’s heartbeat is twice faster as it must be (because strong coffee is not good for the weak from not getting enough sleep and overworked body) John doesn’t answer back to Victor but nods at the textbook.

“I have some fails in inorganic chemistry,”- he answers. “And I must hand the works in till Monday. Or I’ll be given into expulsion list.”

Victor nods, “Do you need any help?”

“Help?” repeats John. “What are you going to do to help me? Would you like to fulfill all the tasks?” John has a deep and tire sigh. “There will be an exam at the end of the semester and I am backward.”

“Of course not,” grins Victor. There are no clients in the café and he is lounging on the chair and is playing the oracle. “ I can give you a magic tablet.”

“Am I Neo?” John smiles. “ Red or blue?”

“Oh, no, it’s much better,” Victor looks like a conspirator. “If you take this remedy, you will be brisk and strong as a bee for a day. You’ll be able to read this damned textbook from cover to cover and begin the next one. Organic chemistry, for example. You don’t need any rest at all.” He takes a white pill out his pocket and demonstrates it proudly. “It’s a panacea, miracle cure from all your problems. Daddy Victor is able to help all suffering students!”

He offers the pill to John and a mad hope visits him that maybe it is a real solution for all his problems.

John’s hand moves to take the tablet but he hears a cold but well known voice saying:

“Can’t recommend you to do it! Besides a short-time improving of your cognitive functions, which can be taken as an improvement of memory and attention, you will have an asthenia followed by headaches, tiredness and degradation.”

“What?” John amazingly looks at Sherlock who has come to the bar counter and Victor aggressively moves at him. Sherlock doesn’t pay any attention to Victor’s bulling and threats but he stares at John for an endless long time before he talks again.

“If you overdose, the psychedelic stimulators can provoke a disturbance of the psyche with insomnia, anxiety, delirium and hallucinations. If you use them constantly you will have the whole nervous breakdown, depression, mental oppression,” Sherlock enumerates the symptoms in a nonchalant, indifferent voice but at the end he adds with a little regret, “ and I haven’t mentioned the addiction. I’m a former bangster, I know what I’m talking about. Though you can’t be “former” when we talk about drug-addiction.” he nods his head and John tries to persuade himself that he doesn’t feel the bitter taste of Sherlock’s last words.  
John quickly draws back his hand from the pill lying at Victor’s palm and makes a step back.

“Fucking wuss!” Victor is very angry. “Damned sissy! You’ll drop out the uni like a champagne cork!”   
And with this promise he turns round and comes to the utility room.  
\- Just take a day-off, - says Sherlock, - have a rest and prepare in a normal way.   
John is deeply impressed with his brightness and nods.

-If you have any problems with inorganic chemistry, I could explain some themes, just tell me, - adds Sherlock and John is puzzled what it is all about. John is thinking and Sherlock is looking at him attentively. John is eager to say “Yes, help me, please!” but his tongue doesn’t obey him and he can’t say a word. They are staring at each other for a long time then Sherlock winces and bites his lip, then he turns round and is going to the exit. John desperately looks at his back and speaks as if a good fairy has removed the spell back and murmurs:  
\- Oh, thanks for your is offer as inorganic chemistry wasn’t created for me.

But Sherlock leaves without turning back and all his figure demonstrates that he will not offer his help twice and he wants everyone to react his words immediately. If you are so foolish that you can’t make your own tongue to obey, you can stay alone. John is ready to burst into tears but another client helps to return back into the world full of latte and cappuccino. The information about the drugs addiction in Sherlock’s anamnesis doesn’t disturb John at all.  
On Friday John takes some days off, though his job gives him some earnings, ignores Harry’s phone calls and has a good sleep. Looking in the mirror John examines his reflection and notices the circles under his eyes and burst capillaries. He is hungry but his amounts of money has run over. John finds a dry bun and reads his textbook, eating it greedily. But later he feels he is bored and abandoned with sitting within these four walls. Mike Stamford has gone to the cinema with his girlfriend and it is only John, who must solve the stupid problems and tasks. Having his head taking a pause in thinking, John puts his summaries, textbooks and notebooks into his bag, finds the lost change in his pockets and goes to the park. London is nice due to the absence of damned fog and the bright weather. And John feels much better out-of-doors. He even devours three themes, easy goes to the heart of given examples explained be the teacher and copied with the nice and neat Mike’s handwriting. Several labs are done easily with some kind of inspiration. That’s why he spends next moments lying on the bench and enjoying himself. He allows his brain some moments of rest. Then he counts the coins in his pocket and buys one more bun. John goes to watch ducks, which don’t want to leave the pond for warmer countries and switch over for a while. It is there he sees a crowd of idlers, a yellow police tape fencing in the crime place, some of the staff of Scotland Yard and (oh, it impossible) a lanky Sherlock’s figure dressed in invariable black coat. John’s heart loses its rhythm and John comes closer as if he is magnetic. Standing near the tape, he observes Sherlock eagerly. He is studies the crime place, talks quietly with the policemen, squats and examines the corpse carefully. His movements are scanty and perfect, maybe a little bit theatrical, and sexual. John is crazy about touching his mat skin, wrings his thin and nervous fingers – he hasn’t ever felt and have such weird wishes in café and surely it is fresh air to be blame. It’s high time to leave the place and the idlers are disappearing one by one but John is standing and looking at Sherlock and his heart is never  
tired of looking at him. For a moment Sherlock stays alone and stands without any movement under the raised wind. Taken by the wind his curly hair seems to be alive and having their own independent life and John is biting his lips and dreaming let Sherlock’s hair run through his fingers and fell its softness and tenderness. It’s not a good idea for John but his legs moves him to Sherlock and he can’t make them behave. John makes a step over the yellow tape and stands in two steps behind from his obsession. He doubles his hands into fists and hides them in the pockets of his windcheater. For a moment John closes his eyes tight as if he’s going to jump off the diving board.

-Hi, I’m John from the café,- he says in a hoarse due to joy and trouble voice , -do you remember me? – Sherlock doesn’t turn round and keep silence. You have offered me to help a little with inorganic chemistry,- John takes a pause and hopes to see any reaction for his words but Sherlock is standing still looking somewhere in front of him.  
-It really doesn’t mean that I can’t cope myself, - tries John one more time, -But you help is also necessary If you were serious speaking about it. I’m John and have introduced myself, haven’t I? – and he is foolishly smiling and looking at this black back with a great hope. – I know, you’re Sherlock. And what about inorganic…  
This moment a tall man with grey temples (obviously he’s a policeman) is going to John’s and the rest of idlers place.

\- Keep off this place, it’s not a theatre – he’s irritate and looks at John who is waiting for Sherlock to stand up for him. – It’s a place of the crime . No trespassing, please.  
Sherlock’s keeping silence and John makes a step back realizing one more time that he’s imagined a lot of nonsense and trifles which can’t ever be true.  
The man comes to Sherlock and lights a cigarette.  
_What can you say?- asks he and shelter the flame of the lighter from the wind. – Is it a murder or a suicide?

John is still close to them and he hears the conversation quite well.  
-With no doubts it’s a murder, inspector, - answers Sherlock. –If only Anderson weren’t such a great idiot, he would give you the same answer. Look at the position of the corpse’s hands and nails…Most likely she went here willingly with her murder – a middle-aged man with asthma. He wears and old mac and he has his boots just being repaired –he has new tips on his solves. May he is a taxi-driver or just often drives….  
-Oh my God, Sherlock, - the inspector is deeply amazed and so is John, - how did you guess about asthma?

-I never guess, I know, - Sherlock sounds irritated and John leaves the place because it is unbearable for him to listen to Sherlock as he clearly understands how miserable his role in the life of this handsome and gorgeous man is . And this understanding kills him.

John turns back to give his last glance to Sherlock and watches him nervously looking around as if he is looking for something. He might have not found all the evidences yet, - thinks John bitterly and he is annoyed. He covers his head with the hood and runs out of park having his heart bleeding from offense and disappointment.

He spends his night solving an endless number of chemistry problems and doesn’t allow his thought concentrate on anything but inorganic chemistry. But every moment he doesn’t look at formulas his thoughts and dreams run to Sherlock. Why did he suggest his help? He did it by himself, didn’t he? John wasn’t drunk and didn’t have hallucinations. It wasn’t a mirage. May it be, John disappointed him with his behavour there, in the park. But it any case it wasn’t a great problem for Sherlock just day ‘hello”. The matter is Sherlock could, but didn’t and made out like they weren’t acquainted. Might it be possible he was ashamed of John’s company? Or he doesn’t take their acquaintance as something important, does he?

John is at a loss, he creates the weirdest suggestions, he is jealous to the dude with the umbrella though he didn’t see him more and misses their looks and glances in the café, which became some kind of a ritual at the entrance and after John makes coffee.

 

John has almost convinced himself that all Sherlock’s visits to the café are random and didn’t ever demonstrate his interest to John. John thinks about the possibility to find another work just not to be caught with this Sherlock’s attractiveness. But there are a lot of problems to find a part-time job for students connected with the schedule and John clearly imagines all the difficulties connected with leaving of the café. The best way is to ignore Sherlock and be sure he doesn’t’ exist at all, to forbid his silly heart to beat faster under the glance of grey (or may be blue?) eyes. John falls asleep at dawn, his cheek on the notebook with chemistry formulas. In his dream he and Sherlock are walking around the park.  
Having got up he understands that it will be very uneasy to realize all his night decisions. He spends his Sunday repairing his gaps in chemistry Mike brings him a glass of coffee and a doughnut and that’s the only John’s meal for the whole day. To tell the truth , any food got stuck in his throat, but John’s brain need calories to work and that’s why John chokes the fancy pastry and caffeine down. The last lab is done at 4 am. John pushes the notebook away and decides to play truant and not visit the morning lectures. He let himself slip to dream. His dreaming is uneasy but deep and he gets up being completely another person, Having a shower he furiously rub himself with a bath sponge as if he tries to tear his poor and completely unnecessary love off and let all his thoughts , memories and dreams about Sherlock to be taken with the soap foam and change the smell of Sherlock’s expensive perfume, which is saved in his memory, for the smell of citrus gel. He wasn’t in love, isn’t in love and he is free from all these silly things, deviant wishes and whim. Tonight John is going to ask Molly Hooper for a date and tomorrow will have its own plans to stop thinking about Sherlock. Never more. It’s a life plan of John Watson, the student of the first year student of the medical faculty before long. And he is prepares for his work trying to ignore the annoying pain in his heart.  
At the café John is effusively polite with the clients, discuss the weather with Molly and the repertoire of the cinemas. Molly is so surprised with his invitation to the cinema that agreed and now they are making their film selection. John beats the band trying not to look at the entrance. He isn’t waiting for Sherlock but he is obviously nervous. Molly casually tells him that there was no Sherlock there without John. John is trying to demonstrate an indifference , shrugs his shoulders and suggests an art house movie produced by Darren Aronofsky. Before saying yes Molly fixedly and intently stares at John but he just shrugs his shoulders and cites an anecdote. Molly turns aside.

Due to Molly’s dreamy look and air of reverie John realizes that Sherlock has come. John doesn’t look there by himself pretending being very busy with a honey raf and when Molly says the cherished words “black, two sugars” , he gives the order to Victor. Molly looks at him angrily but John ignores her with might and main. Victor hems and says some scabrousness about Sherlock and John squirms – even in this condition he can’t hear any bad and rough words about Sherlock. Unfortunately there are no clients at all and John raises his eyes and meets lost Sherlock’s look full of desperation. Coffee made by Victor stands in front of him but he hasn’t even touched the cup yet. Smartphone is gripped in his hand and the under lip is bitten with even white teeth. Sherlock is staring at John, scanning him, prying in his thoughts, trying to understand him and John is angry with him and his offence raises in his heart like a dirty soap foam.  
John hardly turns aside and smiles at Victor laughing demonstratively loudly at his words about a football match. To tell the truth John doesn’t like football, but for some reason he listens to Victor attentively and nods, nods, nods. The wind, rushing into the café and the empty table near the window with the forgotten cup of the coffee, which wasn’t even tasted demonstrates, that Sherlock has gone. Molly purses her lips and John feels that he is tired badly. Nothing goes right till the end of his work-shift. He makes his excuses to Molly for the cancelled going to the cinema and escapes from his work as if it is a prison. The whole evening he is walking about the district and he is beating the rain without any capuche on and dreaming to catch a cold to death. And it is Sherlock’s face that he constantly has in his eyes , who watching John as if he betrayed him. John knows that he has done everything in a right way but the heavy pain that lived in his heart, is slithering and poisoning all his chest. That moment John is the unhappiest man all over the world. And only having his face wet because of rain, allows himself to cry trying not to notice the tears under the rain drops. But his chest is shaken with sobs and he sensed that he is a miserable loser.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long pause - I was just eaten by my work.

Sherlock is absent for next week and these days are the worst ones in John’s life . He goes to work, prepares hard for his seminars and labs, works in the café but he doesn’t live at all. Molly expresses her sympathy with him but her sympathy is worse than having a knife in the heart. It seemed so right cause John just wanted to become free from Sherlock but now his world doesn’t have its colours, smells and sounds. John squirms and every night he is waken up with erection after dreams in which Sherlock takes his hand and looks at him without saying a word. Just takes his hands. And John wakes up and cries in his pillow trying not to disturb Mike, and then masturbates in the shower trying not to say Sherlock’s name. Awful days.  
The shift in the café passes too slow. The text book of anatomy seems to be written in Martian language and John can’t concentrate and can’t understand a word. Victor isn’t very adequate today, maybe he has taken something, thinks John, observing his hurried breath, disposition to sweating, very suspicious feverish shining of his eyes, and miotic pupils.

John doesn’t take care if Victor doesn’t pick on Molly. By the way, Molly goes earlier today as she has a date. She tells about it and her face flashes for a moment. John looks miserable but wishes her to have a good time and looks around the near-empty café. They are going to close in an hour. Victor hides to the utility room. John is trying not to think ,what Victor is doing there and turns over the pages reading the theme on osteology. When the door opens and let the cold wind into the café, John is busy learning structure and texture of the temporal bone. He looks up at the late customer and misses his breath. There is Sherlock at the door, standing without any movement. He is staring with his hard look at John having his hand in the pockets. He looks bad. John notices that he has lost his weight and can be called skinny. He has dark blue shadows under his eyes, dry lips and bitter wrinkles near his lips. They look at each other for an eternity and then Sherlock makes the first and irresolute step/ And John feels a triumph spreading deep in his chest, and he can’t stop looking at Sherlock, trying to remember all his features and doesn’t notice that Sherlock is staggering. Sherlock reaches John’s bar moving staggering gait and sits on the stool. His hand are still in his pockets, he is shivering and his eyes are dark as agates. They can’t be black, cause John has seen them in day light, but now they look like two fathomless wells and they are magnetic. And John is dizzy and understands that he lost himself in these wells long time ago. Sherlock is still looking at him and John is making the only thing he can do really well – he is making some coffee to him. Black, two sugars. When coffee is ready, John moves the cup to Sherlock , Sherlock sighs convulsively and looks at it. Then he Takes his hands out of the pockets and John notices that they are shivering.  
“ I haven’t broken off, I haven’t lost myself ” says Sherlock quietly as an answer for all John’s troubles unspoken, “no connection with drugs. I’ve just had no meals recently. I was busy.”  
John didn’t count to have any explanations but having heard them he takes a chocolate doughnut with some chocolate icing from the glass case and gives it to Sherlock. Sherlock shakes his head but john feels his rightness and strength, says strictly:  
“Just have it!” and Sherlock eats obediently as if he were a little kid and weren’t able to refused the order of his parents.  
Oh, John would like to tell him a lot: that he shouldn’t neglect his health, he mustn’t take any crimes detections without thinking, he can’t follow the criminals alone, he’s not allowed to… But John’s acting like a careful mother with her good-for-nothing and naughty child: he is keeping silence and watching Sherlock eating the doughnut and having some coffee, and his checks are flushing red eyes are closing. Sherlock is weak, but he looks better. John thinks that he must have a good rest, sleep well, have a good meal – some broth and, of course, to have a cup of tea, but John doesn’t say a word as he remembers to keep the distance. Sherlock opens his eyes as if he was roughly woken up.   
“Sorry,” he murmurs inarticulately , in a confused way, ”I’m sorry. It was a bad idea to come here.” He moves the empty cup and plate , drops a folded banknote near them and stands up, maybe he is weak, but he is independent and self-sufficient. And the phlegm air is again on his face with some kind of scorn. He doesn’t look at John, stands up and leaved café , disappeared in the twilight, leaving only a pain in the heart., The pain in a silly loving John’s heart.

 

“Our boy has romped a lot.” Victor gives his voice behind John’s heart and John thinks how long has he been standing here, “Oh, any junkie can’t be former. I’ll leave earlier today if you aren’t against.”

John nod’s as he hasn’t any forces to argue with Victor. Staying at the café alone he is still stupidly looking at the door, closed after Sherlock, mechanically washes the cup and brushes the crumbs off. It’s high time to close the café. He must clean the café up but John is worried. Sherlock is rather weak and John thinks that it was a bad idea let him leave alone. If John’s company is not good for Sherlock, he had to take a cab for him. John takes off his apron, throws the towel away. He runs around the café: switches off the lights, closes the blinds, takes off his key, calls to the security, sets on the alarm and rushes out into the street through the private entrance and watches around for sometimes. The trouble in his heart is growing and it doesn’t give any place to John’s pain. He doesn’t know why is he so scared and troubled. But it seems that he follows the third force and he passes the rubbish bins and runs towards the dark lane, the place where students like to have a quick sex and junkies have their dozes. He hears strange noises and scuffle. Full of the worst forebodings, John darts off , running to the strange sounds.  
In the dim light of a street lamp John with great horror recognizes Sherlock and Victor, enmeshed with each other. Sherlock is kept to the brick wall with Victor’s hulk. Sherlock is trying to release himself from this unpleasant embrace but Victor has a firm grip and he is a strong guy though he is obviously zooming now. Victor is leaning with all his weigh upon Sherlock’s back and succeeded to undo his jeans and now he is trying to fix Sherlock’s hips and to move his legs apart. He is puffing, one his hand is fixing Sherlock’s hands over his head and the other is rummaging about his body looking for a fly. Victor’s is mumbling and he is full of saliva and lust:  
“Mine. You’ll be mine. Bitch. Move your legs and you will like it. As daddy Victor has a big tool, it will be enough for your asshole…”

Sherlock is standing up to him but he doesn’t have enough forces. And Victor has beaned him with something as John can see some blood on Sherlock’s thin white neck which seems to be black in the damned dim light of the street lamp. The following looks like a dream. John furiously attacks Victor and beats him with primitively ancient cruelty. He beats him till he bleeds, till crackle in joints. He can’t stop, can’t stop at all. Sherlock is free and he is sitting on the ground, his hands are on his head. And Victor looks like a puppet, his teeth are chattering, the blood drops are flying around him, he has forgotten about any resistance just he is trying to protect his head and whining. But John can’t stop beating, revising all his life in disadvantaged district of London. Harry and he would get into scrapes when they could rely only on their fists and feet. Surely it is another situation now. But John ought to punish this bustard who dared to attempt on Sherlock’s life and honour.  
“John, John, stop it, please. It’s enough…” John hardly hears Sherlock’s words through the blood booming in his head. But Sherlock is trying to catch his hand and drag away from Victor.  
John doesn’t want to stop but on the other hand he doesn’t want to disappoint Sherlock. That’s why he gives Victor his last hit straight into the blood paste where was his cheeck face and takes a step back. His fists covered with blood and don’t want to obey John as he has got a cramp. He can’t relax or stretch them and Sherlock has to hit his fingers for some times to make them alive.

“Let’s go.” Sherlock pulls him away, “let’s go”.  
John comes to his senses and turns to Sherlock: “How are you? Sick? Dizzying?” The ‘regime of security’ is off and the ‘regime of doctor” is on in a moment. “Do you need my help?”

“I… Me…Yeah….” Sherlock swallows loudly. “I’m not sure… Don’t know. May be my head…” And he is not able to finish and tumbles down straight onto John.

John takes him and thinks the possible ways: take Sherlock to the hospital or to the students’ hostel. John’s hostel is closer than the hospital and in decides everything. John chooses his room. At last, he always can call the ambulance. John with his arm round Sherlock’s waist, putting Sherlock’s arm on his shoulder takes him to the university town,. It’s rather good that Mike Stamford is on duty today and he will avoid the unnecessary questioners about this unasked and unwilling visitor. All his way to the hostel Sherlock keeps silence, but sometimes his kissing through his teeth and groans. John supposes that he has blacked out for some times but there is no time to ask about details. John reminds the content of his first-aid fit and is very glad that he used money when he filled it. They have no problems to enter the dormitory. John takes Sherlock into his room and lays him on his bad as if Sherlock is a doll. Though the situation is really crazy John is happy to take care of Sherlock.  
Sherlock is sitting on John’s bed and watching John taking his first-aid-kit and laying out wads of cotton wool , hydrogen peroxide, plaster…  
“I must examine you,” says John gently as if he asks a permission and Sherlock nods in agreement. John checks the ribs with light touches. “Thanks God, they aren’t damaged,” his smile slightly appears on his lips.   
It doesn’t mean John has any practice of his profession but he has a good experience of living in a bad district .  
“My breathe doesn’t hurt me,” agrees Sherlock, “A couple of bruises, nothing more serious.”  
“it’s great,’ nods John, “Let’s have a look on your head. Can you bend forward a little?”  
Without saying a word Sherlock bends his head and his nose buries right into John’s belly. That causes butterflies John’s stomach and he hopes that they will not causes a great noise and Sherlock will not hear them and will not guess about John’s state. He smells Sherlock perfume with notes of sweat and blood, licks his lips and carefully moves the hair on the back of the head apart and watching the ear and its little lobe he wants to bite. And John sighs concentrating on the wound. But actually its not so bad cause he was waiting to see something more frightening. Thanks God, whatever it was used by Victor to hit Sherlock, he didn’t kill him. John gingerly pours the wound with hydrogen peroxide, rinsing it and stopping the blood, and watching the transparent liquid trickling down the long neck to the white shirt collar stained with blood red dry spots. John dries the neck cleaning the hideous scab then he takes the wad of cotton wool and a sterile bandage and tenderly dresses Sherlock’s head. For some seconds he is slow in finishing and taking his hands away from alluring hair but then he sets the bandage straight and pushes Sherlock away to say he has finished. Sherlock is staring at him, licking his dry lips and keeps silence.  
“Your face. Now.” John thinks he looks like a maniac but he can’t cope with it and examines the scratch on the left Sherlock’s cheekbone with great expectancy.   
He touches him gently, pours the scratches, bends and blows to reduce the pain and his cheek is close Sherlock’s one and puts a plaster on. Sherlock seems not to breath at all and John blushes as he thinks that Sherlock could guess about the emotional storm in his heart and soul and fears it a lot.  
“Any pain? Are you sick? Dizzying?” asks he to hide his embarrassment with care.  
“No pain, no dizzying, no sick,” answers Sherlock in a moment hearkened to himself.   
“Fine,” nods John. “Under other conditions I could recommend you to take a shower but it’s really better to go to bed now as you are devilishly tired. I’ll give you some juice.” John is sure that Mike has a packet of orange juice. “Lie down,” this is a place to take a little pause as John is afraid of Sherlock’s objection and intention to leave this place quickly.  
“No,” Sherlock shakes his head and John’s heart falls down, “It’s your turn.”  
“What?” John is amazed and can’t get the situation.  
“Show me your hands,” Sherlock orders and his voice doesn’t allow John to say anything against. His sleepiness and tiredness has fallen into the background. John demonstrates his hands and notices his hurt bones and scratches. He didn’t notice them when he washed his hands. And now its Sherlock’s turn to pour his scratches, blow on them, spread the necessary ointment and put a plaster on.  
“Ready,” he is proud of the result and looks at John and John sees that Sherlock’s eyes are green and grey at the same time.   
This unbelievable discovery impresses John and makes him muse for some minutes when Sherlock successfully returns to his drowsy state. John has to jump up, finds Mike’s juice and gives it to Sherlock in his mug/ While Sherlock is drinking John is looking for the clothes in his wardrobe. He finds the clean T-shirt and training trousers, timidly to Sherlock offers them and tries to explain that he wants him to stay: “Of course, you can leave right now, but a cab won’t come soon… and you’re too weak. You can spend this night here, my neighbor is on duty so nobody will be in the way…”  
“Why?” asks Sherlock firmly but quietly and stares at John’s face with his special look.  
“What do you mean? What why?” John can’t catch the idea.  
“Why have you taken me here?” this question sounds more detailed.  
John has so many variants to answer: “cause I love you”, “cause you’re handsome and I want you to be my only one”, “because I wake up with your name”, “because all my dreams are about you”, “because you are what I think about when I masturbate in the shower…”  
“Because you have blacked out several times and I didn’t know where you live, and it was faster than take you to the hospital...” John suggests some harmless half-truth ideas.  
Sherlock listens to him with a strange air and nods in agreement but his face clearly demonstrates his doubts as if he asked about other things. Then he just looks another way and clasp the given clothes to his breast. John wants to stay and help him with changing, to do something more but he goes to the shower instead. After having a cold shower John returns and see Sherlock sleeping dressed in his T-shirt and trousers, with his hands under his cheek and his knees pulled to his chest. Surely John’s trousers are too short for him and the T-shirt has ridden up and John cat see a couple of bruise left by Victor’s fists. John thinks that he will keep awake for all night long guarding Sherlock but his eyes immediately close and he falls asleep without any dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

John wakes up and he is rather cheerful and vigorous. But Sherlock is still sleeping and it seems that he didn’t move at all. It seems to John that he doesn’t breath but some moments later he hears Sherlock’s puffing. John spends some time watching Sleeping Sherlock but then he calls himself to order as he thinks it is not right to stare at somebody who is unconscious. The point that it was exactly that he was planning to do at night doesn’t mean anything for John and he feels no embarrassment at all. He prepares for his lectures: takes a shower, shaves (not very carefully), get dressed, takes his note-books and manuals. Before leaving he writes a note for Sherlock to inform him that he can stay in his room and sleep as long as he wants and wrestles with himself as he is eager to touch Sherlock’s cheek. John warns Mike about Sherlock during histology and spends all anatomy lecture dreaming about him, tries to guess what Sherlock is doing during physiology and misses all physics - just tosses it off. He has to collect his thoughts during inorganic chemistry – recently many bad memories and emotions were connected with it. John decides to cut Latin classes and runs home. By the way he goes to the canteen and buys three doughnuts and a coffee for Sherlock. John hopes he is still there and hasn’t leave his room .O, yeah, Sherlock is sleeping and this situation touches John a lot. He put the food on the nearest bedside table, tears the unnecessary note and answers Harry’s phone call. It’s not a pleasant talk as Harry is heavily drunk and she sobs and complains about her girl-friend in a tipsy voice. John understands that he has no possibility to be in his personal heaven near sleeping Sherlock and writes one more note for him. Than he leaves home to look for Harry and to drag her out from the bar.

Having a lot of problems with Harry John is close enough to be late to his work. There is no Victor behind the counter and Molly, who is too nervous, says only that he has left this work.  
“Oh, he came and he was completely beaten, his face was just one large bruise,” whispers she, “ He has lost some frontal teeth. Have you any ideas who can be blame? I think that there were his drug addicted pals. Do you know that he spread this muck.” John nods when it is necessary but he is too busy thinking if Sherlock comes here today. Surely and unboubtful that there is not any reason for Sherlock to come here today but his silly heart has a big hope for meeting. Certainly, Sherlock is absent. Moreover, when John returns to his bedroom, he finds his bed free. There is no food or the note on the bedside table, the trousers are put on the table. It seems to John that Sherlock has borrowed his T-shirt as his clothes can’t be worn now. And there is not any other sigh that Sherlock was here. John sighs bitterly and gives Mike the juice which was bought instead of taken back. Mike doesn’t understand anything. Johns goes to bed without changing the bed sheet and pillow slip . Even if is only an illusion that the bed keeps Sherlock’s smell, John absolutely doesn’t want to lose it.

Sherlock hasn’t visited the café for three days. And it if enough time for John to have all his nervous gone for pieces and imagine the most awful and unbelievable things. A red and kind gay named Ted is hired to café instead of Victor. Ted studies philology. Ted likes Molly from the first sight and she blushes and embarrasses nicely. John has a private talk with Ted and warns him , as if Molly was his sister, that “if you hurt her feelings, you will have big problems with me”. Surely such talks didn’t give any results with Harry’s girl-friends but Ted is rather impressed and swears that he is really serious about Molly. Molly smiles, watching them returning after “having a smoke” (as they don’t smoke both) and John is happy – if Molly stops giving Sherlock here adoring sights, he will have one rival less. Sherlock! John can’t say that he is sure he will return back some day but he hopes to see him. It was something special between them, wasn’t it? Sherlock spent a night in John’s bed and he even has some proofs as his sheet and pillow are still keeping his smell.

Sherlock appears in three days after Victor’s self-discharge. He is still thin and emaciated but looks like a person being recovered after a a grave illness. He hesitates to come into the café and stops near the entrance his eyes looking for John. They look at each other as two plotters and instead of going to his booth Sherlock goes straight to the bar counter.  
“Black, two sugars,” he orders with his special voice which makes John shiver.

As John is making coffee, Sherlock is observing him. John catches his look when he diverts his attention from coffee for a tiny moment and he answers with timid and uncertain smile. John adds a doughnut from himself as he thinks that Sherlock must gain some weight to be normal. Sherlock raises his eyebrows surprisingly but John frowns and shows that he insists . Sherlock sighs heavily and takes the plate closer to him. Having paid for the order, he doesn’t leave John to take his usual place but stays at the counter and occupies the nearest stool and it is co delightful. Now John is able to look at Sherlock any time he wants and have his attentive look as the answer. John is jealous of Sherlock’s smartphone as if they have found some kind of parity or balance – both of them are pretending to have Sherlock’s attention and the both of them take the existence of each other as a given fact.  
Frankly speaking, nothing has changed: Sherlock types something in his phone and John makes coffee but sometimes their eyes find each other and there is no aggression in their mute dialogue but only friendship and supporting. As if one of them asks: “Are you here?” And the other answers:”Yes, I am. I am here.”  
And after this statement they have enough forces to continue their living . They don’t discuss past or future, Sherlock is busy with his strange and mysterious affairs with the police and John studies hard to become a good doctor and saves his sister but now they have a silent agreement. Certainly, John wished to have more but he can’t ask about it and tries to be satisfied with this fragile happiness . What about Sherlock – his thoughts are a big puzzle, but he looks and behaves as if everything is all right. And who is John to demand more? Especially to demand something he can be turned down? He will not overcome this situation. His silly heart will be completely broken if Sherlock banishes him from his sight. That’s why John lives only in the present, makes coffee for Sherlock and feeds him up with doughnuts.  
Harry phone call is a signal of an awful catastrophe.  
“Jo-o-o-o-hn,” drawls she, “my little brother! I am afraid of living….” Cries she. “It is so horrible to live and not to be able to believe anyone!...”  
“Harry, Harry, where are you?” John is making ristretto, Sherlock forgets about his phone and suspiciously looks at him . John hopes that it is jealousy but Sherlock’s emotions are still closed and incomprehensible for him.  
“I’m flying, John,” answers Harry. “it is only the road and me.”  
“Are you driving?” John starts and hardly keeps the ristretto in his hands. He quickly gives the change to the client and looks for Ted. John’s eyes asks Ted to help and replace him. John feels Sherlock’s glance with all the surface of his skin.

 

“I’m flying against the wind, John,” sings Harry, “I’m flying and I’m free… We’ve said good bye… at last… It’s so nice , this wonderful feeling of freedom…” In the background John hears noise of the engine, tinkling of the glass as if the bottle that harry has in here hands (oh, John can imagine this exactly) falls down. “O, Johnny, moment. I’ll be here in a moment,” he hears a noise and rustling. John supposes that Harry has dropped her phone too.  
“Harry, please, just stop the car and tell me where you are. I’ll be there in a moment,” he sais firmly and hopes Harry can hear him. Ok, she has heard him and she laughs  
And name the place she’s passing by. And something awful happens next. John’s ear catches the screeches of brakes , gritting of metal and the clatter of the smashing glass. John’s hands begin trembling, he is looking unconsciously at his phone and he isn’t able to call Harry by her name. The call is ended and John returns to himself.  
“I’ve got to dash,” he says to nobody and forgets about Sherlock though it’s Sherlock who is the main sense and determining factor of his life and all his thought and deeds are oriented and devoted to him. “Molly, I’ve got to dash.”  
For a moment John hides in the utility room, takes off his uniform apron takes his things out of his service locker and runs out from the private entrance. Ye doesn’t notice the gangling Sherlock’s figure until he runs into him.

“I… Me…” murmurs John, trying to go him round and he really doesn’t know what to say but Sherlock doesn’t let him go and needs no words to understand.  
“Let’s go. I’ve called a cab,’ says Sherlock and attentively stares at John.”Would you like me to go with you?”

John wants. He is eager to feel Sherlock’s shoulder nearby, smells his odor, has his unruffled calm and strength. John wants Sherlock to take the part of his damned problem as he’s so tired to carry them alone.

But the idea that Sherlock, this unbelievable and aristocratic Sherlock will get acquainted with Harry who is drunk, is horrible and unbearable.  
“No, no. All by myself.” John shakes his head.”I must…” and suddenly he realizes that ”Harry” sounds too indefinite in gender aspect and if John were Sherlock, he would be rather nervous having such talk. “Harry.. She is my sister...” he explains in a tired voice.  
“I know”, answers Sherlock quietly, looking in John’s eye. “Molly’s explained.”  
He take’s John’s hand and they went out into the street and this touch makes the rest of self-reliance in John’s heart believe that everything will be all right. The cab is here and John says goodbye gazing at Sherlock and trying to remember him so well-organized, calm and confident. John really doesn’t know, what happened, or if Harry is alive a but a glance on Sherlock’s passionless face makes him calmer. If he goes off into hysterics it will not help Harry anyway. John tells the address, which said Harry, to the cabbie and watches Sherlock until his silhouette disappears in London’s twilights.  
The reality can’t be worse. Reached the place, John finds some policemen and Harry’s crashed car. He can’t see Harry but there is a big puddle of blood, covered with a thin layer of broken glass. 

 

John is sick and he is sorry that he refused Sherlock’s help. Sherlock seems to be easygoing with different police officers. But John gets himself in hand, and demonstrates his unbelievable persistence to know about the injured person. Fortunately, she is alone. One of the policeman explained John where his sister was taken and takes his contacts to obtain evidences though nobody will need them. 

Drunken Harry has kissed with a street lamp and if the speed hadn’t been so high, everything would have passed without any problems. But now John isn’t told anything in the hospital, where Harry was take, and he has to listen just duty phrases that the operation is in process. John is sitting between a guy with a broken hand who is as pale as a sheet (he was given an analgesic but his hand wasn’t treated yet) and a fat woman who is always snuffling. She has something wrong with her face and John is trying not to stare but reminds all skin diseases he has learned. The preoccupied and anxious doctors are passing by without any word and John feels his heart dying of trouble – he supposes they don’t tell him something important. It might have been the small hours of the morning when a tired doctor calls his and Harry’s surname. John runs to him and watches carefully every miming of his face (he is copying Sherlock but doesn’t understand it) and doesn’t listen his words trying to imagine her condition due to the doctor’s face air. But it’s high time to pull himself together and he has to ask to repeat. The doctor willingly begins his explanation one more time and doesn’t show any negative or surprised emotions to the some kind of stupidity of his patient’s relative. Harry’s condition can’t be named fine. She has a cerebral injury and she is in coma now and nobody can give any guarantees that this will end well. The doctor asked if there are any her instructions for this case but John dashes aside. He is not ready to sentence Harry to anything without any fight. John is allowed to come into her box. Having all her hair covered with a bandage, Harry looks like a sleeping child. John sighs with relief as he is sure that this the problem Harry will be able to manage with. She has a noise and stormy youth and her head was beaten a lot of times. It’s rather hard and strong. But in the morning he is depressed as nothing changes and Harry is still lying without any movement. The equipment of life support are working and sometimes a comes to get Harry on a drip. Nobody tells John to leave the box and he can’t find any force to go out. He is speaking to his sister, reminding her different funny stories from their childhood and even doesn’t allow himself to go to the loo as it is a risk to miss a moment of her returning to conscious. His phone is out of charge and he has forgotten his charge at home. He ought to call to the café and let them know he will not come today and say something calm to Mike Stamford who surely is in trouble about him. But John doesn’t do anything but he is sitting near Harry, having her hand in his hands and praying, praying, praying. They are alone in this life. She is his only relative.

Their father died when they were too little to remember him. And their mother had a wanton lifestyle changing her boyfriends like they were toys. It doesn’t mean that all of them were bad: blond Bill taught John to fight, left-handed Paul (It close to Paul McCartney laughed they) taught him to play the guitar, Sam, his was as bold as an egg, told and demonstrated the first aid. But the last was a real monster. He beat their mother and pinned Harry in corners John supposes that these sexual harassment was the real cause of Harry’s lesbianism) and looked at John in a strange way. These looks made John to be outside as long as he could as he clearly understood that one day he would hit this pile of shit and wouldn’t be able to stop until his death. That was the measure of John’s hate. The same rage was given to Victor.  
The last boyfriend destroyed their family as he beat their mother to death, was close to rape Harry and only John’s absence save him from the jail as he would killed the stinker without any doubts. Certainly, the rat was caught and landed in prison, but it didn’t help neither their dead mother nor them. It was a kind woman, their neighbor, who saved them from the orphan asylum. John and Harry lost everything except each other. And It was harry to be John’s constant in all this damned world until Sherlock came. John couldn’t leave her alone, couldn’t let her die.  
For the three days of Harry’s coma John loses his sense of time, mixes day and night, he doesn’t remember his last meal and how is it to sleep at night. He’d like to do something but he has no money, no relations, and nobody to ask any help. The doctors can’t say anything and their prognoses are different, the nurses visit Harry for a moment to make all necessary treatment and go to another patients. John can’t demand anything as he understands that there are a lot of patients like Harry here but he realizes that if the situation doesn’t change he won’t last long. John feels awful when he decides to go out. It’s high time. The nurse is getting Harry on a usual grip and promises John to sit some time nearby. John goes to the porch of the hospital and screws up his eyes as the sun shines too bright. It seems to him that all the world has run far away and it is only he to stay near the broken car. He inhale a full breast of this wet warm London air and sits down the stairs. He feels giddy and his hand are trembling. John closes his eye and tries to imagine that he is very far from hear. And when he opens his eyes he sees Sherlock. Sherlock is standing in front of him giving him a big plastic glass of water and a packet with something that smells like fresh fancy cakes.

“You must eat ,” He says firmly as John did and Sherlock sits near him.  
John makes a little swallow of the very hot coffee and tastes the most amazing croissant in his life. John give the packet to Sherlock and says: “So must you.”  
He doesn’t say a word that Sherlock has become even more thinner than he was last time John saw him. But they don’t need any words to understand each other. They are sit and eating the croissants and have the coffee from one plastic glass in turn. And after they just sit and keep silence. When Sherlock’s phone vibrates in his pocket, he  
knits his brow (John sees this out the corner of his eye) and then he takes out not a smartphone to answer but a little business card and gives it to John.  
“Call this number if you need anything. It doesn’t matter what.”  
“I don’t need any charity,” answers John and his face flashes but Sherlock covers his hand with his cool hand and John’s heart goes galloping.  
“it is not a charity,” says Sherlock quietly and looks at him carefully, “ As everything is paid by British Government. You can’t really imagine the amount of things we can have according to the laws.”  
John keeps silence. He wants to thank Sherlock but his tongue doesn’t obey him.  
Sherlock stands up and leaves him and John follows him with his eyes.  
Next morning Harry comes to consciousness. Doctors are sure that it is a miracle. John is just happy. His sister cries and heaps unprintable words in turn. But the problems don’t want to disappear. They need some expensive medicines and an orderly approved nurse. And Harry needs a rehabilitation clinic . John gives way to despair and understands he has no way except Sherlock’s cars. Being embarrassed and having his cheeks red he takes the card but there is only a phone number there. Without any name. John feels foolish and can’t imagine how to begin his talk. But after the second dial tone he hears the male voice. It is the voice he heard in the café. It was the strange man with umbrella. John can’t say a word. He wants to hang the phone up but the strange man with the umbrella doesn’t give him any chance:  
“Hello, John. I was waiting for you to call. Can I help you?”  
John quickly tells about the medicine and the nurse but doesn’t say about the click. Eventually, the doctors didn’t persist on it.  
“OK,” says the voice. “Good bye, John.”  
John feels his tongue frozen but he hears the tones in his phone as nobody is waiting for his gratitude.  
And in the evening a nice nurse named Clara sent by the social service and a doctor comes to inform, that the necessary medicine was found in the special stock of the hospital. John is deeply surprised by Sherlock’s acquaintance abilities and , being sure that Harry gets on with Clara, he returns home. He supposes that during his absence he lost his work, his place in the university and his place in the room. But instead of scandal Mike demonstrates his sympathy and asks about Harry. With a great fear John asks his questions about the university and Mike answers that everything is OK, John’s absence was covered by Mike and lections can be easily caught up as, frankly speaking, John hasn’t lost a lot. When John asks why Mike knew about his problems with Harry, Mike answers that it was John’s friend from Chemistry Faculty who came to him in the day of the crash and warned him about the situation. John is shocked with the revealed circumstances and fins his charge. His phone is alive and John sees an endless number of missed calls and messages from Molly. John opens the last one and reads that he was given a short vacation for the time of being with Harry and he is welcome to return to his work anytime it is possible for him. Surely John guessed about the reason but he calls Molly and she also says that Sherlock warned them about Harry and her hospitalization. John is angry and pleased at the same time.  
But the only thing he is able to do is to have a shower and goes to bed. He sleeps soundly. Morning meets him with a message from an unknown number: “How is your sister? Sh.” John things for a moment and writes the answer: “Thanks. Everything is returning to normal.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I've finished. This is my favourite chapter which made to begin all this work. I hope you will like it as much as me. Enjoy)

Yes, everything is returning to normal. Harry is on the way to recovery. They are a pair of shoes with Clara and affairs of the heart are also OK. Harry doesn’t disturb John every moment and it gives him a possibility to catch up his study. His job is also OK and John is busy making Turkish coffee and lungo. In his first day at work Molly tells him that she supposes Sherlock to solve all the problems with the administration of the café. When she spoke with them, they answered as if all necessary information was given and everything was decided. John asks about Sherlock’s surname and Molly knows the answer: “Holms. Sherlock Holmes.”  
And John feels warm in his heart that he guessed the author of the unknown number SMS. A couple of times he understands that some teachers give him an easy time and he thinks that it is also Sherlock’s influence. But as he has no evidences, he decides to let everything stay as is.  
The first time of Sherlock’s appearance in the café concurs with the first day of John’s work. According to Molly’s words, he drank his coffee somewhere else if really drank it at all. And John suggests that Sherlock likes him. And they quickly return to their previous variant of conversation but they have done a great step forward. And now Sherlock writes a lot of messages, from the simplest “Good morning” to “What time will it take from an experienced surgeon to disbud a kidney at home?” In his turn, John is glad to remind Sherlock to have breakfast , tries not to be shocked with these strange and doubtful questions and he isn’t lazy to look through some books to find the necessary information. Sherlock visits the café. Sometimes he is absent for some days due to his detective affairs. But now he always warns John sending him a message. And John is very grateful as he would go mad if he was left uncertain about his Sherlock .But they enjoy the time which they spend together in the café: they are together and even can touch each other. Sometimes they have funny discussions about the clients as Sherlock amuses John by telling the true things which are open for him. After the end of John’s work they go to the John’s dormitory and Sometimes Sherlock visits him to have a cup of tea. It is really just hot tea which John makes and brews in a little Chinese teapot. Due to Sherlock’s intuition he comes only the days when Mike Stamford is on his night duties as he works as a nurse boy in the hospital. Sherlock often tells John about his crime detections and John listens him with astonishment, hanging on every Sherlock’s word. Sometimes they just keep silence sitting nearby on John’s bed and John often drops off to sleep on Sherlock’s shoulder. In the morning Sherlock is always away but a cup of coffee, hot and tasty, and a bun are near. Sometimes John makes guesses about his role in Sherlock’s life .The answer about his attitude to Sherlock was decided long ago – John realizes that this is love. It seems to John that Sherlock is not indifferent for him as all this care and time spent together demonstrate a deep feeling but doubts are always present in John’s heart. He is so ordinary and plain, His appearance isn’t attractive, he isn’t wit, he is just average John Watson. Then he asks himself about the reasons of Sherlock’s behavior. Why is it so if it is not a sympathy? And answers are fantastic and wild from a mystic bet with him as a goal to a unknown experiment where he plays a role of a little guinea pig. And he remembers a strange and powerful man with an umbrella and his relation to Sherlock. It is enough to kill John . He feels disturbed and uneasy. But he can’t think bad things about Sherlock. He is not able to think bad about him. And he moves all his doubts and jealousy away and loses his head near Sherlock. He doesn’t ask anything more. But he can’t stop dreaming about it.

John Is making espresso compano when Clara, Harry’s nurse and girl-friend ,comes into the café. She is a nice girl, sincere and careful. The best part of Clara is that she makes Harry to be happy and that’s the main reason why John doesn’t pay any attention to some familiarity, spontaneity and assertive character. He is a patient person and tries to judge people for their deeds and ignore their faults. Clara notices John and waves her hand to him. They are rather close and John thinks that she is one more sister for him. John comes out to give her a hello hug and have a word about Harry. They are hugging and this moment Sherlock comes into the café. John is taken in the centre of hurricane named Clara and he doesn’t see Sherlock and he has to be kissed before leaving her strong arms. And After this damned kiss he sees Sherlock who stands still at the door having his hands in pockets and stooping. His look at John is the same as stormy London sky and his eyes are close to melting ice. It’s an evil look and John can easily cut of it. He has never seen such a glance before. And John wants to return the warmth and care in Sherlock’s eyes but he completely can’t understand about the reason for this reaction. Clara shakes John and he is out of his prostration and understands that it is jealousy. Sherlock is jealous and it means that…does it mean that he loves him? John is afraid of saying this word but now everything is in its place. Sherlock loves him, Sherlock is jealous of his interest in Clara, It is painful to him and John ought to explain..Just to explain…. John tries to leave Clara’s hug but this moment Sherlock turns around , opens the door and runs out . Only the black laps of his coat moved the air. John runs after him, having successfully got free from Clara and cries:”Sherlock, stop! It is not what you think about! This is Clara! She is Harry’s nurse!. You’ve helped me, do you remember? They are together. She is a lesbian. Stop, Sherlock! Stay for a moment. Don’t leave. I love you… Love you…”  
John cries it so loud that only a deaf wouldn’t be able to ignore his words but Sherlock leaves him anyway. He even doesn’t turn his head just disappears in a crowd. Why he didn’t believe John? Or believed? Maybe, John words scared him? He hasn’t ever told John about his feelings. And John suggests that it was only his illusion: no love, no friendship, no relations. Just two guys who love coffee. Nonsense! Trifle! John stops his thoughts as he understands that all Sherlock’s deeds demonstrated his feelings rather good without any words. It is the most important and precious in any person for John, isn’t it? Not words but deeds. But why did has he left? John has explained everything, hasn’t he? Why? And John doesn’t have any answer and feels his heart dying in the ocean of desperate.   
He returns to the café, makes excuses to Clara and send a message to Sherlock: “We must have a talk.” Then he writes the next one: “You‘ve taken everything in a wrong way.” And the third:”This is Clara. She’s Harry’s girlfriend. She is a lesbian.” But the third SMS isn’t received as Sherlock has switched off his phone. John is in despair. But he doesn’t know what to do. Where can he find Sherlock as he doesn’t’ want to be found? He has to wait. Only wait. He has been waiting for two days and it is too much for him. He forgets about his study and takes additional work in the café in order to catch Sherlock. Bu he is absent. John is wires. He troubles about Sherlock. He is ready to run about the whole city but it is better to begin with Sherlock’s home. The only tiny problem is that John doesn’t know his address. And John makes a step he would never do if could think soundly and sensible. He takes the card and phones too the man with an umbrella.  
“Hello. I’m sorry I disturb you… But I need your help… I don’t know what to say…. Just… please, I worry about him….” Murmurs John and understands that he talk rot.  
The deep voice powerfully interrupts him: “Hello, John. It seems to me that you’re looking for Sherlock.”  
“Yes,” answers John and he is astonished that there is one person except Sherlock with such great brain, but surely they are six of one and half a dozen of the other unlike stupid John. “Could you tell me his address?” For all this time John hasn’t ever visited Sherlock as Sherlock didn’t invite him and John was too timid to ask himself – he thought he was happy as it was.   
After a little pause the man says as if he hadn’t any doubts: “Baker Street, 221 B. Good luck, John!”  
But John forgets to say good bye. He put s his phone it the pocket , takes his jacket and runs.  
Baker street is rather far away from John’s dormitory and there is no money for cab (as usual). To tell the truth, he doesn’t have enough to the tube and he runs to the centre of London as if it is the most important marathon in his life. He has a trace line in his head to show him the shortest way to Sherlock’s home and John follows it strictly without any deviation. He runs throughout the crowds like a shell. Some people give him a way, others say something to his back but nobody stops him. John really isn’t able to think about different trivia like the culture in the street, because he is sure that something bad has happened with Sherlock and he is afraid to be late. It can’t be just jealousy, says John to himself, as he explained everything right there, in the café. The real reason is that Sherlock has got into a pretty mess. And his wild imagination presents him a lot of horrible pictures: from a ripper maniac to common heart attack. John is in a hurry, he whispers to himself something like:”Hold on, Sherlock, I’ll come soon!” and people dash aside him.  
The situation becomes worse when he John finds himself in a crowd of skinheads. There a lot of guys and they are rather aggressive but John is also very purposeful and aggressive. He is very patient and outwardly restrained person but nobody knows what kind of temperament is hidden under this composure and calm. Sometimes John is afraid of this part of himself because if he lose control, he will not be able to stop. Victor is a good example and some other cases from his fighting youth. But this is not a situation to behave himself properly. He hurries to Sherlock and his armour made of his patient is broken into the tiniest pieces. His target is Sherlock and he has an obstacle. So John’s task is to put the obstacle away as quickly as he can and continue his way. That’s why he doesn’t apply the brake and begins fighting momentally. Skinheads are very glad to have such an object for battle but they obviously underestimate furious John. The mess, provoked by John looks like   
a slaughter. John escapes from the crowd leaving some lying anomies behind. He doesn’t want to crush them off as he can’t waste any time- Sherlock needs him. But now John scares the passes-by not only with his purposefulness but with his appearance too. In passing he feels that his lips have salty taste (they get bleed), something heavy under his eyes (hematoma), a pain on his cheekbones (a lot of scratches and may be a cut), and a boring pain in his chest (as it not the same hurt which he felt during the first quarrel with Sherlock, maybe he has two lungs broken). Surely, John is very vivid and may be Sherlock will not appreciate his exterior view but it doesn’t matter. He wants to be sure that everything is all right. The rest of the way is free from accidents. John finds the door under the number 221D and stairs up the porch and rings the bell. He doesn’t hear anything and that’s why he begins to knock with his fist and then he begins to kick it. But the door stands still and John, to his regret, understands that there is nobody in. The windows on the second floor are dark and closed and it is a bad sigh. John wants to run somewhere else, to do something more, but he doesn’t know where he must run and what he should do. Baker street is the only place connected with Holms besides the café. But he is not in the café or Molly would ring John. And John will wait for Sherlock here. One day he will return home and they will have a talk. John slips down on the porch and leans against the door. It is cold and it is unpleasant drizzling rain but John doesn’t care. He is concentrated on his thoughts about Sherlock. John closes his eyes and tries to pray waiting for Sherlock but he soon falls asleep.

He is awaken by a strong blow in the back which makes him to fall down the porch and plumps his bottom right into the mud mess. The light from the opened door shows the well known lanky figure in the coat. John blinks and tries to understand what is happening. It is far into the night –he has slept for a long time on Sherlock’s porch and now Sherlock , who is completely dressed , is standing at the door and is looking at John prostrating in front of the porch. John groans and summon his strength and Sherlock runs down the stairs and kneels near John, takes his chin, scans with his unbelievable eyes.  
“you have fought,’ says Sherlock in accusatory tone and his thumb tender cleans the running blood .  
“What?” Johns bleed lips stretches in a light smile.”I t happened en route to your home. They weren’t lucky…”  
“Who? Who weren’t lucky?”The fear in Sherlock’s eyes changes and turns into a timid smile.  
“They. They were unlucky,” John answers firmly looking straight in Sherlock’s eyes. “And I’m lucky as I have found you.”  
Sherlock’s smile fades and he looks aside.  
“Why didn’t you open the door?” asks John/ “you were at home, weren’t you?”  
Sherlock hesitates a little and says ; “I didn’t hear.”  
“Nonsense,” sighs John. “Only a deaf man wouldn’t be able to hear me. I was close to brake your door off.”

Sherlock twitches as if John pushed him and he keeps silence, glancing at John. The talk is surrealistic as they are still in the street, John is sitting in the pavement and Sherlock is in kneeling position on the lowest step of the porch. They are surrounded with night and something like snow is falling down. John is surprised as he understands that Christmas is near.  
“OK,” John nods, “I wanted to be sure that you are…” and John chokes with the word “fine” because Sherlock isn’t fine at all. He looks worse than when John was offended at him. Sherlock looks as if he were about to give up the ghost. “…alive,” says John at last. “Could I ask some questions?”

Sherlock wants to say something but he just nods instead and he is scanning John with his opaque and painful glance.   
“why did you switch away your phone?” asks John. “Fuck, I’ve sent you a hundred of messages but you just switched your mobile off.” John feels anger and revenge and tries to keep himself under the control.  
“It was broken,” answers Sherlock immediately and turns his eyes aside as if he is guilty.  
“Why was it broken?” John continues his examination. He knows that he must clear something to himself even if Sherlock doesn’t want to open his heart. If it is left without any explanation, John will go mad/ Sherlock is good at making John crazy.  
“I was angry,” answers Sherlock and he is confused.  
“Why were you angry?” asks John as he knows what he wants and he is going to his goal.  
Sherlock looks up at him and he looks hurt, then he licks his lips and says; “You were kissing a girl.”  
And it is high time for John’s blood to boil: “Stop lying me, Sherlock. You heard that I cried to you. You just ran away. The whole street heard me. The whole damned street knew that it was Clara , Harry’s girl-friend and she was a lesbian. That I…” and John interrupted himself as he is not able to feel this come-down one more time. He is tired and asks one more time: “I will repeat my question: why were you angry?”  
But Sherlock is bowled out as if he hears this for the first time. He has a blank look and then he sighs and says quietly that he hardly can be heard:  
“I really didn’t hear your words.”

John can’t believe him:”I cried as an elephant in rut/ Only a deaf man couldn’t hear me.” His voice is full of distrust and resentment.  
Sherlock looks down as if he is guilty and then he jerks up his head and look at John with a strange challenge: “You’re right, John. I am deaf. I was born deaf. I can speak, I can lip read easily and I don’t like wearing any deaf aids as I have an awful headache after. I don’t need you sorrow. I can manage with my problem. I even can play a violin,” says he proudly. “Have I satisfied your curiosity?”  
Though he is still knelling in front of John, he looks ideal and unapproachable, aristocratic and cold (but it is a puzzle how he is able to do it in such position). And John is completely surprised with this information and he can’t stand amazing. Certainly he understands that this problem is loathsome for Sherlock but his admiration is connected with Sherlock overcoming it.  
“Unbelievable!” he sighs, “Fantastic!”

“What?” And Sherlock’s arrogance disappears and he looks lost and vulnerable. “What do you say?” He is nervous as he can’t completely understand John’s reaction.  
“I say, that it’s fantastic” answers John.” Nobody can guess that you’re deaf. You are a detective, you help the police and you are deaf. How can you do it?”  
Sherlock shrugs his shoulders and then moves from knees to heals and then he just sits down on the last step. His trousers are wet and dirty but Sherlock pulls them up/ His is close to John and he stares at him as he sees him for the first time. He stretches his hand and wipes the blood on his cheek. He frowns as it is impossible for him to see the blows on John’s face.  
“You should change the clothes and get warm, “ he says resolutely and takes John’s hand and pushes him up. John stands up and follows him and he doesn’t have any thoughts if it good or not.

John screws up his eyes as the light at the landing is a little bit bright for him/ Sherlock helps him but John understands that he has more than two rib broken. They go up the off his high stairs and find themselves in a little loving room with a fireplace. John take off his dirty Jacket and places it in the corner not to stain anything. He looks around and sees the mess and desolation in the room as if a tornado played in it. John supposes that he exactly knows the name of that tornado.

“you don’t hear without aid, do you?” clarifies John when Sherlock turns his head to him and Sherlock nods.  
John smiles because it is really good information for him. He is always afraid of putting his foot in it again or to tell about his feelings. It can’t be said that John didn’t speak about them but he announced that to the world but it can’t be taken seriously as Sherlock didn’t hear him . This situation is similar to a false start and John isn’t against to start again.  
“I’ll bring the first aid kit,” says Sherlock and disappears in his flat.  
John looks around and sees a scull on the chimney board, the violin left in the armchair, a stuffed bat and his TY-shirt on the sofa (his heart gives an acrobatic jump because Sherlock saved it, he didn’t throw it away) and then he sees a syringe and a tourniquet lying in the open metal box on the coffee table. His heart stops beating as he understands the situation. John clenches his fists and turns pale because of his fear for Sherlock. Yeah, his intuition didn’t let him down and Sherlock feels bad and John lays the blame on himself. This moment Sherlock appears and he is still dressed in his coat covered with little drops of melted snow. He gets the situation and screws up his face as if he has a toothache. 

“Oh, no. No,” Sherlock says quickly, hastily, taking the box away and putting the first aid on the table. “I haven’t slipped down. I was close…” he corrects himself. “I was very close. I didn’t hear you ringing. I was going to buy a doze and found you. I felt…bad.. awful. I thought you had some relations with that girl. I was going mad. I had to forget….” Sherlock isn’t able to speak this phrase till the end but John understand who is he speaking about. “and I was ready to return to my past…” And he frowns and turns around. Sherlock takes his coat off and drops it on the floor, and his hands – they are so nervous and he is trying to keep them busy preparing some cotton and bandages and he doesn’t look at John. And it is nice because John has a lot of tender words not to be heard but to open his heart.

“Idiot,” says John watching Sherlock’s nervous hands rushing about the coffee table, ”You are a genius fool, Sherlock. And I am an idiot too. And I’ll never forgive myself. You see, I love you. I don’t care what do you think about yourself. You can hate me but I won’t allow you to do foolish things. No drugs. You will have three meals a day and a walk in the evening, I promise...” John stops as he feels he can’t stand from crying. Unwilling tears welled up in his eyes and he dries the tears. While Sherlock isn’t glancing at him he takes the box and thinking about the ways to get rid of it. Get rid of it forever. Sherlock gives no reactions about John’s actions with the box and finishes to arrange all the jars and ointments on the table. He returns to John and carefully helps him to sit down in the armchair. Then he takes his face and turns it left and right to examine the injuries left after the skinheads.  
“You will tell me what you got in this time,” says he angrily and begins cleaning his face with a soft sponge without asking any permission.

Sherlock’s fingers are thin and nervous but they also are careful and cool. He hardly touches John’s wounds , treating them with disinfection liquid , spreading the ointment and pasting the bandage on. Sometimes he blows on damaged skin to relief the pain and John feels that he is out of reality. He reminds their first quarrel and that he gave Sherlock the first aid after it. And John loses his head as Sherlock stand too close to him and he breath his scent and tries to remember it and to control his heart, asking it to stop beating so violently. Sherlock finishes his manipulations and say with a short giggle:”Alright. Unfrozen.” 

John is embarrassed and breathes out loud. Sherlock puts all his medicines back and John understands that it is high time to leave . But he doesn’t want to leave Sherlock and this cozy, in spite of the mess, living room. The second armchair is so attractive but who John Watson is to be a burden. He doesn’t have any reason to stay at the flat in baker Street. And even his ribs are calm and demonstrate that they aren’t broken at all. Sherlock stops making himself busy with the kit and glances at John and John can’t understand his emotions. John makes himself to stand up and says with the most false smile he can put on his face:  
“OK, I’ve go to dash…”  
Sherlock keeps silence and John makes the first , then hardest step to the door. His heart is breaking into pieces but the second step is a little bit easier. He will have a possibility to cry later, alone. And the falling snow hides his tears and cold his flashing cheeks.

John Stretches his hand to his dirty jacket which is lying in the corner like a ugly pile and feels Sherlock’s hands on his shoulders. They get him to stand still and then turn him round. They faces are impermissibly close to each other and John gets that Sherlock eyes have the colour of sea water. Sherlock is looking at John and smiling widely and he looks like mischievous boy.

He hasn’t ever given John such an open smile and John doubts that he has ever given such a smile to anybody. John is surprised and doesn’t understand anything but Sherlock hugs him and whispers somewhere to his crown:   
“You are a fool< John! Such a great fool! O my God, I love you too! I felt in love with you at the moment I saw you for the first time. I saw you at the window of the café when I was passing by. I couldn’t move and I had been standing for half an hour before I dared to come into. I was watching you, admiring you, enjoying you… Gosh, I went crazy about you. How could you suppose that I hate you?... What a load of bull! I just….” Sherlock fitfully breathes and hugs him stronger. John’s heart is melting with joy as he is so happy to listen to all these words. And Sherlock doesn’t want to stop his monologue and he continues his whispering:  
“Maybe I’m the wrong man to all these feelings and emotions. I have no ideas how to show my interest to anyone. Emotions, relationships… I ‘m always getting lost in these spheres. And beside this I had a very unpleasant experience.” Sherlock speaks fast as he doesn’t want to forget to say something important.  
“I was in love and I thought it was mutually. But my deafness.. That man… He abandoned me. I understood that I’m defective. Nobody needs me. That’s why I was afraid to show you that I love you. I didn’t want you to alienate me. It seemed to me that even friendship should be enough to be happy. I am such an idiot.” Sherlock admits his mistakes. “And forgive me. Forgive my jealousy. I love you, John. I also love you.’

Sherlock is quiet and John blushes of his embarrassment And whispers to Sherlock’s chest and he doesn’t try to get free from Sherlock’s hugs.  
“You can hear, can’t you? You wasn’t looking at me when I was speaking about my feelings…” He doesn’t want to slug it out or to bring Sherlock to light. He just wants to clarify everything.

Sherlock giggles and kisses John lightly:  
“I really don’t listen without my aids. But when I was going out to buy a dose I had to put them on. I’m sorry.”  
John laughs quietly and relaxes. He hugs Sherlock .  
“And there in café? Did you have your aids? You remember that story with a fatty . And with Victor’s pill. You worn them, didn’t you?”  
“No, I didn’t.” Sherlock grins,” I don’t like them. I can lip read and I don’t need to hear to get the situation. My deduction came into existence because of my hatred to the aids.”  
“Deduction!” John is inspired. “But you couldn’t know about the twenty pounds note? When the fatty was speaking you were sitting at your table. How was it possible?”

For a moment Sherlock sets John free   
and his shining eyes are looking strict into John:  
“You ‘ve a large mirror behind you, John,” he says and smiles warm and tenderly, ”You are very unobservant!” And while John is digesting his words Sherlock asks, “May I ask you something as we are doing with some blank spots in our relationships?” John nods as he is still shaken and Sherlock takes this as an agreement: “What were you so offended with when you refused to make coffee for me? Am right that you were offended?”  
John reminds their first quarrel and he is petrified for a moment. Then he tries to leave Sherlock’s hugs. Sherlock doesn’t keep him but he is looking at John as if the fate of the whole world, or at least the fortune of Great Britain depends on his answer. John is ashamed of his complexes but he understands it is necessary to overcome.

“Yes, I was offended, I am sorry,” John mutters under his breath and tries to avoid Sherlock’s eyes. “I saw you at the place of the crime. I was walking in the park… Occasionally passing by… I stopped to have a word with you but you even didn’t turn your head,” John sighs as he suffers this come- down one more time and then he adds, “Now I know that you just hadn’t heard me, but that time it was really hurt. Forgive me, please.”

“Oh, it were you there, in the park!” exclaims Sherlock and slaps his head,” You were there, and it wasn’t my imagination.” John is surprised a lot.   
“I felt your smell,” explains Sherlock and I decided that it was a hallucination as I was thinking about you all along. I even looked around to see you but nobody was, there. Damn, damn, damn it… Please, forgive me, John!” Sherlock looks upset and John is full of self-reproach.  
“No, Sherlock, it’s not your fault, “ he tries to reassure Sherlock. “it was just a pure accident, you know.”  
“A pure accident…” Sherlock echoes his words,” A pure accident… Oh my god, John, I’m scared when I think that you wouldn’t come and I would lose my temper.” He looks completely shocked and frightened. And John also finds this idea frightening.  
“I would come in any case ,” whispers he, “I am very gratitude to that man with the umbrella (you gave me his business card after the accident with Harry, do you remember?) and he said me your address.”  
After this confession John looks down as he doesn’t want a painful question to be asked.  
“Oh, we will thank my brother, surely, “ Sherlock assures John,” He is a great asshole but sometimes he can be kind.”  
“Your brother?” John jerks up his head “I thought he…” And John decides not to reveal his suggestions.

“Yeah, Mycroft is my elder brother “ Sherlock’s explanation is very necessary. “That time he visited the café to get acquainted with you as he said that there too much your presence in my life.” Sherlock smiles and adds: “He liked you.” And John smiles at the answer.  
John smiles and cant’ stand to get closer to Sherlock to have some more hugs and Sherlock is as enthusiastic as if he was starving and John were some bread. They fall on each other clutching clothes and trying to be as close as possible. Insatiable hands touching their bodies, lips find lips to become one in a kiss and find themselves on the old and shabby Persian carpet which is full of different chemicals spots. All John’s   
defense is broken and now he is unprotected and opened for Sherlock and his love. John feels that Sherlock needs him a lot and tries to explain that he needs him too and maybe even more. He tries to demonstrate it with the language of his body and Sherlock kisses him and whispers as if he is in a fever : “Mine… Mine.. Mine… At last you are mine… Forever…” And John can’t say a word as his tongue doesn’t obey him at all as usual and lays himself open to Sherlock’s endearments and bending to meet his touching. This is their first time together but they don’t control themselves and are in a hurry as they want to assert their rights to each other marking their bodies with kisses and love bites. 

They are rude in their caress and movements but a little pain make them feel better. The come at the same time just having their cocks rubbed together. And then in unconscious bliss and comfort they completely take their clothes off and touch each other making careful and close study of each other. The fall asleep on the floor having their hands and legs interlaced. Sherlock’s head is on John’s shoulder and even in his dream John hugs Sherlock as if trying to protect him. They are close and happy as they haven’t ever been.

John successfully passes his winter and moves to Sherlock just before Christmas. They celebrate the holiday together but just after twelve an Inspector Lestrade’s message comes to Sherlock’s phone. John doesn’t want to stay alone and they arrives to the place of the crème together.

“This is my assistant,” says Sherlock to the arrogant policewoman and pull John by his sleeve to the corpse. “What do think, John?” and he turns to his lover to see his answer and John smiles. Sherlock still doesn’t like any aids that’s why he tries to have John in view. And John touches Sherlock’s shoulder if he wants to say something. They cooperate and interact ideally, take each other’s hint s or looks and seem to be a pair. They don’t kiss or hug each other in public, don’t shock anybody . 

They just circling each other like a planet and a satellite in a difficult scheme of reciprocal function. Sometimes John is afraid of his heaven near Sherlock. He wakes up at nights and just listens his breathing and makes his heart stop being so scared to lose this shaggy-haired long-legged and genius happiness. And the sweetest moment is to see the same fear in Sherlock’s eyes. This fear has a sinking sensation in the pit of the stomach. And John completely agree to have this fear for all his life as surely he will never meet a better person than his Sherlock. Sherlock is a phenomenon , a natural disaster and cataclysm and John admires him . And feasts his eyes upon him. And enjoys.  
“So, John, what do you think?” Sherlock repeats his question and returns John’s attention to the dead body on the floor.

Certainly, maybe Sherlock’s attempt to get the first-year student involved in the work on crime detection will fail, but John concentrates and tries to remember everything he has learned. It seems to him they will have a lot of corpses to examine in future. And Sherlock’s shining eyes just prove his guess.

**Author's Note:**

> A very nice video created by Julia Guy especially for this story can be found there https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ug71A4Y-PjQ


End file.
